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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26766490">you're there for me</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/915/pseuds/915'>915</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Stray Kids (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Canon Compliant, Domestic Fluff, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Love Confessions, M/M, Pining</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 03:15:02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,634</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26766490</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/915/pseuds/915</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, Minho wanted to follow him. Ask him how his day had gone. Hope their hands brushed against each other as he handed him something to eat because he was probably really hungry.</p>
<p>But every single time, Minho stayed put, limiting himself to the fantasies, trapped in the what if’s.</p>
<p>He wished he was like the others, sleeping heavily and soundly in their beds, some of them releasing small snores. He wished he didn’t wait for him to come home every night, his stomach knotting whenever it felt like it had been too long since the last time he saw him.</p>
<p>(Or, Minho can't sleep because of his gay yearning.)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Bang Chan/Lee Minho | Lee Know</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>220</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>you're there for me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>my girlfriend helped me come up with the summary hi i love her and i wrote this fic for her back in july before we dated and now its minchan month so why not Minchan~</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Minho was more than used to Chan strolling back into the dorms late in the night.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t tend to keep quiet either, sometimes haphazardly slamming his metal briefcase on wall corners or against the couch. He’d be exhausted, eyes puffy and glazed over from drowsiness after staring at his laptop screen for too long. Sometimes he wasn’t able to hear Minho’s whispers calling for him in the darkness, his mind probably still playing the music he had been working on moments before.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Normally, he headed straight to the kitchen after dropping his things in the room, and Minho would be wide awake behind the curtain attached to his bed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sometimes, Minho wanted to follow him. Ask him how his day had gone. Hope their hands brushed against each other as he handed him something to eat because he was probably really hungry.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But every single time, Minho stayed put, limiting himself to the fantasies, trapped in the what if’s.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wished he was like the others, sleeping heavily and soundly in their beds, some of them releasing small snores. He wished he didn’t wait for him to come home every night, his stomach knotting whenever it felt like it had been too long since the last time he saw him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Minho had gotten sick of it at one point, instead pushing himself, forcing his body to work in the deadest hours under the excuse that he had to get the choreographies down until there was no possible way he could forget them. Chan would often find him there, in the practice room, sweating and dehydrated, and he would tell him to take a break and go home, with encouraging words to build up the confidence in his skills like the exemplary leader he was. Minho never found it in him to tell him the real reason he was there. And he didn’t know when it started happening, but he was having a harder time telling the curly-haired boy no.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Before, Minho could hide it with tight smiles and jokingly pretending to be uncomfortable whenever he got too close. He would make his face contort in mock disgust if Chan smiled at him a little too adorably, the way that made his cheeks sink deep into his dimples. He stood like a stone anytime Chan randomly wrapped his arms around him, which didn't happen too often. But the more time passed, the more he wanted to reciprocate.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Anyone would melt at the sight of Chan’s eyes narrowing as he grinned. Minho never thought he would find himself in that position.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It got to the point he didn't move if Chan stood in front of him with their faces close together. It got to the point he got softer instead of scowling when he playfully punched him. He actively singled him out whenever all the members were together, admiring how he was so levelheaded even when dealing with a bunch of rowdy children.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Minho wasn't sure if anyone else noticed it. Maybe Jisung did, but if so, he wasn't saying anything about it. The younger boy only really threw him a look one time when Minho offered Chan to stay after practice to help him with a sequence he was having trouble with. Maybe he wrote it off as Minho simply being helpful. But really, Minho had only been watching him the entire rehearsal, silently observing him as he wobbled because he didn't gain enough momentum or lagged behind the beat. If anyone else had been struggling, he probably wouldn't have noticed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It felt selfish. He spent so much of his time engrossed in him that he noticed the subtle interactions he had with anyone else. When he joked around with Changbin the same way he did him. Or when his arms held Felix a little too tightly for a little too long. He wanted it all for himself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That part was one of the two downsides to feeling this way. The other, of course, being that he could never tell him, and therefore never know what it would be like to have that feeling returned to him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But Minho was more than used to Chan strolling back into the dorms late in the night.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And he kept doing it, even if it seemed hopeless. He whispered his name even if he didn't hear him, pretending to be awake because he couldn't sleep (if he wasn't in the room with him). He kept daydreaming about the what if's, even if they seemed impossible or if they hurt his resolve.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If he stayed that way, he figured, maybe the feelings would go away as quickly as they came. And no one would ever have to know.</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<span>But Minho was more than used to Chan strolling back into the dorms late in the night.</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<span>This night was no different. He even tried to sleep, curling himself into his giant stuffed pig, his bare arms clutching it like his life depended on it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He only managed to doze off a little, immediately perking up when he heard the clatter of the doorknob gears as Chan twisted it open.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was a familiar thump of metal bumping into the doorway, and then the door closing. Next he would pad his way over to the room, coming in to quickly put down his belongings before he headed back out. Minho knew the routine like the back of his hand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It started shifting out of the norm when he heard Chan humming a little, slipping out of his black hoodie and removing the beanie from his head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Chan?” whispered Minho.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Like always, Minho was too quiet to be heard over the noises layering in the room. From the snores to the air conditioning and now Chan’s humming. He buried his face back in the plush toy, cheeks going hot when Chan didn't turn and continued undressing in the darkness. It felt wrong to get a kick out of seeing his pale back, even if he'd seen it dozens of times to know he had freckles dusted all over his shoulders and his arms.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Minho heard Chan moving again, this time headed to the bathroom instead of the kitchen. He wasn't sure what stirred him to get out of bed to follow him, but he did, not even bothering to put on a shirt before slinking out into the hall.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Chan didn't close the door of the bathroom, the light spilling out and illuminating the area. When Minho got closer, he could see Chan looking at himself in the mirror, running a moist cotton pad across his face to remove the makeup he’d been wearing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His dark eyeshadow smeared around the length of his eyelid, taking a few more wipes to remove completely. But once it was all off, he was just Chan.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Of course, he was always Chan. No matter what, his personality never changed. But without the makeup, he seemed a lot younger, boyish.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Minho stepped into his field of vision then, and Chan caught the movement in the mirror. He flinched at first, jumping back and holding the front of his shirt.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh my god, don’t do that,” he hissed, standing up straight again. But the fright was quickly replaced with one of his trademark giggles. “That was good, you got me. What're you doing up?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Minho shrugged. “I just couldn't sleep,” he said nonchalantly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Something on your mind?” Chan asked, instantly switching to his “I Will Make Sure Your Conscience Is Clear And Positive No Matter What” mode.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Needless to say, there was </span>
  <em>
    <span>a lot </span>
  </em>
  <span>on Minho’s mind. But they were things he could never tell him. Like how much he wanted to run his fingers through his messy curls. Or feel his puffy, soft lips on his own.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>All Minho did was shake his head. “No, nothing. Think I had too much sugar before I went to bed.” Which was a complete lie.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Chan nodded, but Minho knew he was too intuitive to be convinced.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He tried to push the moment away by turning and heading to the kitchen, switching the light on and pushing himself up to sit on the counter.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you hungry?” asked Chan as he followed him, leaning on the counter across from him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Minho shook his head again. “Are you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, I ordered some takeout earlier.” He patted his stomach. “I’m all good.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Minho’s eyes turned down to his own legs, no longer knowing what to say. It felt a little too intimate being alone with him. He was afraid he would lose control and say something he didn't want to say.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you really—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What have you been up to? At the studio?” Minho deflected.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Chan scratched the back of his neck. It wasn't in his nature to go on without knowing what was wrong first, but he knew Minho was stubborn enough to not break at the first jab.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ve been working on a song. I finished it today,” he said, smiling a little in pride. One of his dimples showed, and Minho’s heart fluttered.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe that's what he was humming. He seemed to be in a better mood than usual, anyway.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Really? Can I listen to it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Chan blushed, rubbing his ears the way he did when he was nervous. “Ahh. It’s still a little rough. I can show it to you once it's polished.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Minho raised his eyebrows and put on his little tight-lipped smile, tilting his head to the side and staring at him innocently. “Can I?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Chan rolled his eyes, putting his arms up in surrender. “Fine. It’s on my laptop, though.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can wait,” Minho beamed, blinking at him a few times.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So Chan laughed a little and shook his head fondly as he went back to the room for his laptop.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>While he waited, Minho started to overthink.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When Chan’s cheeks blushed a little, was he just flustered? When his ears turned red, did it mean more? Was it just him being the charismatic person he was? Or was it because of Minho?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He tamped down his surge of emotions when Chan came back with his bulky laptop, wires hanging everywhere including one connecting to a pair of headphones.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you sure you wanna listen?” Chan pressed, even as he set the laptop down on the space next to Minho. “It’s kind of sad to be listening to it at this hour.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If you’re comfortable with it, I’m sure,” affirmed Minho.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Chan then handed him the headphones, their fingers touching and sending a shock of electricity up Minho’s arms.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Did Chan feel that, too?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Without another thought, he secured the headphones over his ears, and nodded at Chan to start.</span>
</p>
<p><span><br/>
<br/>
</span><span>(A/N: take a pause here and listen to</span> <b>[Stray Kids: SKZ-RECORD] Bang Chan "인정하기 싫어"</b><span> on YouTube for a more complete experience. preferably with headphones on! think of it the way you did the first time you heard it. continue reading after you’re done~</span><span>)</span></p>
<p>
  <span></span><br/>
<br/>
<span>When the song ended, there were tears in Minho’s eyes. His heart was beating fast, and toward the end of the song, he had to clench his fists and swallow hard to prevent them from spilling out. The raw emotion made Minho feel things, and he couldn’t stop thinking about how he’d felt that way before, and Chan probably felt that way too, and he never wanted to hear that genuine sorrow in his voice ever again. The desperation at the high note, the longing when he belted, the subtle piano in the back that only added to it. It was all him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Minho took the headphones off and closed his eyes, his eyelids betraying him as they pressed the tears out to pour over his cheeks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Minho?” Chan murmured worriedly. He moved closer to him, standing right in front of where he was sitting on the counter.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t… want you to be alone, hyung,” Minho squeezed out, his voice thick and nearly unintelligible. “I don’t want you to feel like that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not alone anymore, Minho,” Chan said, pressing Minho’s hand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Minho looked up at him then, saw how close he was and how concerned he looked. And it was because of him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So Minho let the adrenaline kick in, he released all of his inhibitions, allowing the flutter in his stomach to push him even closer until their lips were joined.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He felt Chan’s grip tighten around his hand, but he didn’t let go.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And in that moment, a rush of relief swept over him, finally having the answer he desired for so long.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Everything in him lit up, his hand coming up to hold the side of his face, nose pressing against his cheek, and he moved his lips a bit, testing it out, until Chan met him with the same energy, arms closing in around his waist.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Minho vaguely remembered that he wasn’t wearing a shirt as he felt Chan’s hands touch his bare skin, suddenly feeling more vulnerable than he was before. But he felt so warm. He always made him feel that way, only this was different. He could indulge in him and have him all to himself, and no one else could hold him the way they were holding each other. Everything he did told Minho that he felt the same way, and he no longer had any worries.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The world was in the palm of his hands, the sky was the limit, every cliché ever stitched on a throw pillow, he had everything if he had him. Chan, the boy who waited for those who stopped to tie their shoes. Chan, who never faltered if he had to be the one to pay for lunch. Chan, who showered everyone with compliments to make sure they were confident enough to meet their goals. Chan, who put others before himself no matter what.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was him all along. It would only be him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So Minho kept kissing him, hopping off the counter so they were more level with each other and holding Chan’s hips against the counter instead, the older boy’s fingers reaching up into the tendrils of his dark hair at the back of his neck.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Minho didn’t want him to feel anything like betrayal ever again. He never ever wanted him to feel the need to write a sad song ever again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They stayed glued together until they both had to come up for air, and they both panted from the tension, their breaths mixing as they pressed their foreheads together.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I-I had no idea you…” Chan wiped the tears off of Minho’s face, even though they were mostly dry by then.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“For a while now,” Minho breathed. His head was foggy, still emotional over the song and being able to have Chan in his arms without contemplating the what if’s. “The song is amazing, by the way.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Chan laughed against him, and Minho felt the vibrations rack his body. “You’re just saying that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I mean it.” And Minho really hugged him then, the kind of embrace he’d never given anyone else, tight and firm and their bodies fitting together like they were meant to be.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And Chan didn’t even say thank you, never knowing how to take a compliment, which Minho was already used to by now. But he did return the gesture, burying his face in Minho’s shoulder.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You wanna go get some sleep? I’m sure you're exhausted,” Minho murmured.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Chan said. What he said next made Minho tear up again, a pang in his chest when Chan nuzzled closer. “I wanna stay here for a bit.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And so they did, standing there in the middle of the kitchen in each other’s grasp, forgetting everything else and no longer even aware of what time it was.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tomorrow would be something new.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And Minho had no regrets then.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>thank u for reading hope u liked &lt;3</p>
<p>kudos and comments much appreciated!!</p>
<p>find me on my <a href="https://twitter.com/minlixing">twitter</a> and feedback is always welcome in my <a href="https://curiouscat.qa/luvin">curiouscat!</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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